The Reason Why
by EiseiNoMuzai
Summary: The Undertaker was odd. More than odd; he acted like a madman. So that is how he was viewed. No one ever bothered to wonder what had made him so, and he never bothered to tell anyone. But that doesn't mean that the story does not exist.
1. Chapter 1: An Odd Encounter

_The Reason Why_

All right, so! This is my second fanfiction thus far. I was watching Kuroshitsuji one day and thinking to myself, "wow, the Undertaker is a total nutcase. But there's something... strange... about him. I wonder how he got that way?" And so, that is how this story came into existence. A brief warning: It is UndertakerxOC. If you don't like OCs... I'm very sorry. You'll have to read something else. I like to think that my OC is not a Mary Sue, but that's completely up to you. She will be developed in more detail soon, don't worry.

Also, this fanfiction is going to have a bit of a dual storyline. It follows the Undertaker in the past, of course, but then it focuses on another OC; a shinigami with no memories who exists during the time period after the Undertaker changed. No, it's not random, even if it looks that way at first, and yes, the stories are connected. You'll see.

One last thing: Updates will likely be slow. (Probably VERY slow.) I have plenty of things to worry about other than fanfiction, unfortunately. Constructive critisism would be greatly appreciated, and if you spot any typos, PLEASE let me know. I am OCD about things like that.

I don't own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters, including the Undertaker. ... I just gave him a name. (Don't kill me. I could hardly call him the Undertaker before he became an undertaker, could I?)

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><p>Chapter 1: An Odd Encounter<p>

Alone in the darkness, a small boy walked quietly down the alleyway. His bare feet were dirty and callused from walking the rough cobblestone streets, and his soft blond hair was disheveled and unwashed. He was dressed in rags, and clutched a small, cracked clay bowl to his chest. As he walked, the contents of the bowl jingled quietly.

Abruptly, the boy stopped, his weary, dull brown eyes flickering briefly with concern. He could have sworn he'd heard something just now… He glanced over his shoulder, but the alley was dark and looked quite empty. However, his nervous mind pictured something hiding in the shadows. He turned forward and hurried on, troubled and afraid. Maybe he was just imagining things... But no, there it was again. It sounded like another pair of footsteps back in the darkness. He stopped again, and the other footsteps ceased. The young boy swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. After a long, tense moment, he spoke, his voice trembling slightly. "Wh-… Who's there? I don't-"

Suddenly the footsteps started up again, but much faster. The beggar boy barely had time to turn around before something hit him hard, pinning him to the wall of the alley. He gasped in alarm as he found himself staring into the face of a man. The stranger's brown hair was disheveled, and he had a wide but crooked sneer on his face. His brown eyes were wide and undeniably insane. "Ehehehe," he snickered, "where d'you think yer goin', little sir? It's awful late, ain't it?"

The boy's face was ashen, and he clutched his bowl to his chest in shivering arms. "P- Please, sir," he squeaked, "I was just going to find a place to sl-"

"Eh? Wha's that y' got there, kiddo?" The man kept one hand clamped on the boy's shoulder and, with the other, reached for the bowl. The boy's eyes filled with tears, and he clung to it with all his strength.

"Please," he cried as the man pulled and tugged at the bowl. "I need to get food with-!"

_SHING_. The boy's voice stopped abruptly as his eyes widened in alarm. A searing agony shot through him, and blood cascaded from the gash in his throat. His grip on the bowl went slack, and the stranger backed up a step to let him slide to the ground, holding the bowl in his hands. The insane man laughed wildly, fingering the edge of his blood-stained knife as he peered at the contents of the bowl. "Well, you ain't too good a' this beggin' stuff, are ya, kid? Don' worry, y' won't be needin' food ever again after t'night, will ya?" He giggled as he pocketed the few coins and casually tossed the bowl to the ground. He turned and strolled casually away down the alley.

The victim sat at the base of the wall, clutching his throat, his eyes wide with horror and pain. Blood flowed steadily between his fingers. He let out a quiet gurgling sound as he slowly fell over sideways, trembling, tears streaming down his dirty face.

_Tap tap tap_. More footsteps. The boy forced himself to look up through the haze of agony. Standing over him was a tall man wearing a long black button-down coat over a dress shirt and tie. He had long, silver hair with a thin braid on one side, and his eyes were hidden by a pair of shining glasses. But what truly frightened the already-terrified boy was the fact that the newcomer held in one hand a gigantic silver scythe, the blade held to the handle by a skull crowned with gleaming thorns.

The newcomer looked down at the bleeding victim in silence. After a long moment, he spoke; his voice was deep and soft. "Good evening to you, young man," he said slowly, calmly.

The beggar boy looked up at him with petrified, confused brown eyes, trembling and clutching his throat. His mouth stretched open in a silent cry, but all that came out was a sickening gurgle and a bubble of blood. The silver-haired figure immediately knelt down in front of him, head tilted slightly to one side. "Shh… You shouldn't try to talk. You'll only make this harder on yourself," he advised quietly. His next words were dry and ironic, but still soft. "In case you hadn't noticed, it appears that your time in this world is drawing to a close. Don't bother trying to fight it; it's too late for that now. I am what is known as a shinigami. I'm here to reap your soul so that you may rest."

The boy still looked terrified, though his eyelids were beginning to droop. He sobbed silently, eyes never leaving the shinigami's face.

One corner of the shinigami's mouth turned upwards ever-so-slightly. He brought his huge scythe forward and lightly placed the tip of it against the boy's chest. He saw those desperate brown eyes dance with panic. "Don't be afraid," he soothed calmly. "This won't hurt much at all compared to that throat wound. I won't skewer you, I promise... Just a small cut, that's all I need…" So saying, he pressed down swiftly, and the tip of his scythe sliced easily through the boy's coarse to bury itself in his flesh. A strangled, gurgling cry managed to squeak its way out of the boy's open mouth, and he writhed slightly in pain. The shinigami pulled the scythe away as the wound began to glow. The child watched in horrified fascination as what something that looked like ribbons of film snaked out of the wound and danced in the air before them. The silver-haired shinigami straightened and walked over to examine one of the coiling reels of film. "These are called cinematic records," he said absently as he watched the film roll on. "They are visual records of everything that has happened in your life up until this point. We shinigami use them to judge your soul… It is how make our final decision as to whether or not you would be so beneficial to the world that we should spare your life."

The reaper refrained from mentioning that with one so young, it was nigh impossible to say whether or not he would have grown to be someone important to the world's future. The records rolled on, flashing scene after scene, image after image, thought after thought. He watched the boy's father abandon him, watched the boy's mother wither and die of an unknown illness. He watched the boy wander listless and lost through the streets of London, scrounging out barely enough money to keep him from starving to death. He watched all this with a face impassive as a mask, eyes hidden behind shining glasses. The boy looked on in despair, but he was not really that frightened anymore. As he watched his past play out in agonizing detail before his eyes, he felt himself give up. Then it was over, and the glowing reels hung still and silent in the air. The reaper said nothing for a moment. Then he slowly turned and looked down at the boy. "…Are you ready to go?" He asked quietly in a rather neutral voice.

The boy's dull, empty eyes met the tall being's opaque glasses. His mouth closed, and his head nodded very slightly. Without another word, the reaper lifted his enormous scythe and slashed horizontally through the records, cleaving them apart as though they were made of tissue paper. The glow flashed brighter for a moment and then began to fade as the film reels dissolved into thin air. As they faded, a leather-bound book slowly appeared in their place, dropping into the waiting hand of the silver-haired shinigami. He tucked it into his jacket in silence as the surreal glow of the cinematic record vanished.

The shinigami watched as the light left the child's eyes. After a moment, he turned away, reaching up with one black-gloved hand to swipe the small splatter of blood from the tip of his scythe. As he turned, he heard something. Someone running on the street just ahead; the steps were light and fleet. Sure enough, a moment later, a figure ran into view and turned the corner into the alley. A second after she did so, she looked ahead and skidded to a stop.

The shinigami examined her in silence. She looked young, though not as young as the boy- thirteen, perhaps?- with pixie-like features and a shock of choppy, inky black hair that fell just past her chin. She wore a puff-sleeved pale green and black plaited dress that flared out around her thighs and ended just above her knees, with pale green knee-high socks and slim black mary janes. Her skin was starkly pale, and she had a splatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She had distinct dark circles under her large olive-green eyes. She stood there, several feet into the alleyway, staring at the scene before her with wide eyes. However, to the shinigami's surprise, she did not run away. As the alarm faded gradually from her eyes, it was replaced by wary scorn. "Oh, come now," she said dryly, her clear voice tinged with a British accent. The silver-haired figure noted that she was very slowly edging backwards towards the intersection. "You really think you're going to get away with that when you're carrying a giant scythe? If you're going to murder someone, you should at least have the brains to do it with a weapon you can hide afterward."

The shinigami just stared at her for a moment, genuinely surprised. Then he tilted his head slightly to one side. "I do believe you're mistaken," he said coolly. "I did not kill this boy."

The girl laughed incredulously. "Oh? You didn't? Then what're you doing standing next to his bloody corpse with a scythe? Playing at being the grim reaper?" She was still backing up- a few more moments and she would undoubtedly turn around and make a break for it down the street.

The silver-haired man's lips pulled into a smirk at this comment. "Actually," he said smoothly, "I _am_ a reaper. How observant of you."

She stopped. For several seconds she just looked at him. Then she frowned. "… Pardon? Did you just say that you're a reaper?"

He sighed and folded his arms, his scythe still in one hand. "That's correct," he said dryly, slightly irritated at having to explain himself twice in one day. "I am a shinigami. Some call us Gods of Death, some call us Reapers… It is our job to judge the souls of humans when they die, collecting them or, very rarely, allowing them to stay in this world a bit longer."

He waited for the girl to call him insane and run off. But instead she blinked at him and looked down at the boy lying in the alley. "… So why didn't you let _him_ stay a bit longer?" She inquired after a pause, voice hard. "It seems to me like you picked him up a bit early, didn't you?"

He eyed her strangely. "No," he replied calmly. "He was scheduled to die tonight. We only spare souls when absolutely necessary. Only the people destined to have a great impact on the world, and that certainly doesn't happen often."

She looked back at him, olive green eyes going thoughtful. She looked back at the boy sadly for a moment. "… I suppose that makes sense," she murmured after a moment. "It still seems like an awful shame, though…" A thought struck her, and she performed a quick curtsy, a sunny smile coming to her face as though she'd forgotten all about the boy's corpse lying on the ground. "My name is Alexandra Burton… But I hate Alexandra, so please just call me Alex. I've never spoken to a shinigami before. It's nice to meet you! What's your name?"

The shinigami blinked behind his glasses. He looked at her in silence, unsettled. Not only had she believed him right off the bat, but now she was _introducing_ herself? _'Nice to meet you?'_ In all his long years, this had never happened before, not once.

The girl- Alex- cocked her head to one side, eyeing him quizzically. "Well?" She prompted. "You do have a name, don't you?"

He frowned slightly. After a few seconds, he pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose with one finger; the glare on the glass receded, revealing the shinigami's eyes. They were undeniably beautiful; they had double irises, the outer circle yellow and the inner one forest green, framed by silver lashes.

"My name," he said calmly in his deep voice, "is Nathaniel Cross."

Alex grinned, and to Nathaniel's surprise, bounded right over to him and stuck out one hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Nathaniel," she said cheerily.

Silence. The shinigami made no move to shake her hand; he just stood there and stared down at her in astonishment. A few seconds later, she waved her hand slightly. "Uh," she said presently, eyeing him expectantly, "I don't know how familiar you are with human customs, but you're supposed to shake my hand now…"

Nathaniel frowned, still staring at her, this time as though she was clinically insane. "I'm aware of that," he said, unable to keep the hint of bewilderment out of his voice. "Aren't you frightened?"

The strange girl blinked. "Of what? You?" She smiled. "No, not particularly. You seem nice enough." When he looked at her incredulously, she rolled her eyes and added, "You clearly aren't evil. If you were evil, you wouldn't be standing there looking at me like I'm mad as a hatter. You haven't killed me yet, so you can't be _that_ bad." She paused. "Oh, and you don't have the right sort of eyes for an evil person," she added sagely.

There was another brief silence. This girl was making less and less sense every minute. His eyebrows descended. "… You're judging my character based on the appearance of my eyes…?" He said it slowly and without inflection.

"Well," Alex said thoughtfully, "sort of. I can't see any hint of malice or insanity in your eyes, so I'm not terribly worried just now." She once again waved her hand up and down.

After a long moment, the shinigami doubtfully reached out and took it, giving it one slow shake before letting go. "Yes, well… Nice to meet you, as well, I suppose."

Alex grinned widely before pausing to cast a doubtful glance at the boy lying on the street, blood pooling around his body. She shivered slightly and rubbed her arms. "The poor child," she muttered. "At least he should be happier where he's gone." Then she looked back at Nathaniel as though a thought had just occurred to her. "Well, if you didn't kill that boy, then that means that there's a murderer on the loose…" She frowned and glanced back over her shoulder at the intersection. "So I think I'll stick with you for now," she announced. "If that's all right, I mean."

He gave her an odd look. "What makes you think you'll be any safer with me than with a murderer?" He asked dryly.

She made a face at the God of Death. "I know _you_ aren't going to kill me," she said scornfully, then paused. "Well, I don't _think_ so, anyway. I'll have to try not to make you angry, but other than that, I should be fine. And you look pretty intimidating, so I think if the murderer happened to spot both of us, he'd leave us alone. On the other hand, if he were to spot a girl walking around, alone, in the middle of the night, on an empty street…" She trailed off.

Nathaniel frowned slightly. "…I suppose I see your point, but that would be your own fault. Why are you walking around alone in the middle of the night, in any case? Aren't you a bit young to be on your own? You couldn't possibly be over thirteen…"

This provoked a sullen glare from the girl in question. "_Actually_," she huffed loftily, "I am _sixteen_ years of age." Catching his dubious expression, her scowl deepened. "This is what I get," she grumbled under her breath, "for being short and skinny. No one ever takes me seriously."

"Sixteen is still young," the shinigami pointed out, unruffled. "What are you doing wandering around the streets at night? As you may have noticed, it's not the safest idea."

"Oh, running away," she replied offhandedly. "So, where are you headed now?"

The shinigami raised his eyebrows at her. He was done with his job now, and once he completed his missions he always wandered around in the human world for a time. It was a welcome relief after spending so much time in that dratted shinigami office building. "Nowhere in particular."

She smiled widely, olive green eyes dancing above their dark circles. "Great," she declared brightly. "That's exactly where I'm going! So let's go nowhere together, all right?"

He eyed her in silence for several seconds, slightly unsettled. Then, with a sigh, he began to walk towards the intersection. "Fine. But don't expect me to protect you."

She laughed and trotted after him, catching up and keeping pace by his side. "Oh, you don't have to," she said cheerily. "You just protect yourself. I doubt a murderer could survive that." She paused and watched with wide eyes as the shinigami held his huge scythe out to one side. It began to fade, and soon there was nothing left of it. He walked on as though nothing had happened, and she hurried to catch up. "_That_ was fairly impressive," she commented.

Nathaniel snorted at this as the two turned onto the well-lit but empty main road. "Why are you running away?" he inquired dryly as they walked, glancing down at her from behind his shiny glasses.

Now a frown appeared on Alex's face, and she folded her arms across her chest. "The usual clichéd reason," she said wryly. "My parents are trying to marry me off. Or, rather, they've _been_ trying to marry me off for the past three years. No one has ever been interested; I'm much too odd for anyone to consider, money or no money. And I'm not pretty." She pointed at her dark circles, raising her eyebrows. "See these? They don't go away. Insomnia." She made a face and went on. "So a week or so ago, my parents found some man who would actually be willing to consider me. He even has money." She scowled as though she thought this to be completely unimportant. "The trouble is, he's a complete and total drunkard. But my parents don't care. At this point they would be willing to marry me off to a mutant with three heads, as long as they can get me out of their hair." She sighed, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. The Death God noted that this girl was carefully concealing some powerful emotion; he could see just a dim flicker of it in her eyes. It looked like fear, though she was doing an excellent job of hiding it. "At first I did my best to be as uninteresting to him as possible. Which means, being my weird old self. One day, he told me:" She paused and cleared her throat with a self-important look, and her next words were uttered in a deeper voice, tinged by a mocking undertone; "Alexandra, you have such beautiful long hair. It's like a dark river down your back." She crossed her eyes before returning to her normal voice and expression. "So the next day, I chopped it off. He looked at me funny when he saw me, but it didn't dissuade him, oh no." She sighed heavily. "It went on like that for a while, but the man just can't take a hint. I have no intention of spending the rest of my life with someone who's going to beat me to a pulp every other day. So I'm left with one option, and that's to run away." She abruptly smiled up at Nathaniel and stretched her arms above her head jubilantly. "Ahh, the open road!"

He walked on quietly for a few moments. "So your plan was to become a hobo?" He asked dryly.

She brought her arms down and glared at him, one slim black eyebrow twitching. "Of course not," she snorted. "My plan is to go to some other town or city or something and dress up as a boy and get a job. No one will hire a girl, but that's okay, since my hair's already short. And I'm nearly flat-chested anyway, so it won't take more than some bandages to fix _that_ dilemma. I can get by that way. I just need to buy some boy clothes and I'll be all set."

Nathaniel was silent. They strolled on for a few minutes, in the outskirts of London now. A little further and they would be in the countryside. She glanced up at him thoughtfully. "So, I've bestowed my annoyingly melodramatic story upon you. I'm even stranger than I thought; here I am walking around with a God of Death, and I spend all this time blathering about _my_ boring life?" She shook her head. "So what about you?"

He looked down at her. "What _about_ me?" he echoed coolly.

She tilted her head to one side. "You're the shinigami here. Your life must be a whole lot more interesting than any human's, right? Don't let _me_ hog the limelight; why don't you tell me something about _you?" _

He frowned slightly as he walked. "Such as…?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "Well, let's see…" She said ironically. "How about… Oh, I know! You said that you're _a_ reaper. As opposed to _the_ reaper. There's more than one of you?"

"There are many shinigami," he replied dismissively. "Almost a hundred in my sector alone. Do you really think that a single reaper could harvest the souls of every human being who dies during the day, alone? We may be shinigami, but we cannot be everywhere at once."

She blinked and tilted her head. "Huh. I guess you're right. What's it like being a shinigami?"

He cast a doubtful glance at her; this was a question he'd never been asked before. He frowned. "Alternately interesting and dull."

Alex widened her eyes in mock astonishment. "How on Earth could being a Death God be _dull?"_ She demanded.

Nathaniel adjusted his glasses as he strolled down the dark, cobblestone road. "We spend much of our time in an office building," he began wryly, "training and filling out paperwork and taking care of other trivial matters. When we _do_ come to the human world to harvest souls, we have to go through each one's life story before we finish. Some are rather entertaining to watch, but most are incredibly boring. But some shinigami do enjoy their jobs. There are those that take pleasure in the actual reaping, others that enjoy witnessing destruction and mayhem, some who simply find it interesting to see so many lives play out before their eyes."

Alex was looking at him intently, her brow creased with thoughtfulness. "What do _you_ like about it?" She asked promptly.

Nathaniel said nothing for a time. "Well," he murmured eventually, "I suppose I most enjoy visiting all of the different areas of this world. It's far more… picturesque than the world I am used to. And there is something to be said for watching the life stories of those who have had more… eventful existences." A faint smile curved the corners of his lips. "Particularly those who have made names for themselves," he added softly. "Watching their lives through their eyes, knowing the truth as no one else could. It is… rather satisfying."

Alex looked at him for a moment, eyebrows arched. "How many famous people have you judged?" She inquired curiously.

He shrugged carelessly as he walked. "I've lost track. Robin Hood and Marie Antoinette, to name a few."

The girl's eyes popped. "_Robin Hood_ and _Marie Antoinette_?" She repeated, astounded.

Nathaniel nodded absently. "That's right. And many more. As shinigami go, I am one of the more experienced; I've been around for quite some time. I suppose you could call me an expert. Some call me legendary."

Alex paused in the middle of the road, which was now dirt-paved. Nathaniel strolled on for a few more steps before stopping and looking over his shoulder at her. She was staring at him as though he was a lunatic. "Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You're not only a God of Death, you're _legendary_, too?"

He tilted his head slightly, still looking back. "Correct," he said smoothly, glasses shining.

She frowned at him. "And you didn't think it important enough to mention beforehand?"

He eyed her quizzically from behind his glasses. "Should I have?"

Alex let out a breath of exasperation, folding her arms crossly. "Well, _yes_," she said, looking at him thoughtfully. "And here I've been so casual with you all this time. I should probably be bowing and scraping all over the place." Nathaniel opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off with a sudden grin. "Oh, well! Too late now! I've never been one for bowing and scraping, anyway."

He gave her an odd look that said "you make no sense whatsoever, but I won't bother to say so" before turning his head to face forward again. He tilted his head back slightly to gaze up at the ethereal, glowing full moon. They were on a country road now, just outside the city of London, with grassy fields and hills rolling away to either side. The sky was strewn with stars, and a cool breeze whispered softly through the night. The shinigami was silent for what seemed like a long time before he spoke next. "I believe," he said at last, still gazing upwards, his glasses reflecting the starry night sky, "that it is time for me to take my leave."

Alex, standing just behind him and to one side, smiled ruefully. "That's a shame," she observed reflectively. "And we were having such an interesting conversation, too. Ah, well… I met a legendary shinigami tonight, so I should be grateful. Thanks for letting me tag along with you! I really enjoyed your company!"

Nathaniel glanced back at her in surprise. Very few people could say that they "enjoyed" being around him for any length of time. How odd. What an odd girl. He spent a second mulling over just how to respond to this, but she saved him the trouble and went on cheerily. "I hope I'll see you again sometime. If you're ever out reaping souls and happen to spot a boy with black hair, green eyes, and dark circles, say hi just in case it's me, okay?"

He looked at her, yellow-green eyes bemused behind his glasses. "I suppose," he said after a moment. "Well, then, I bid you farewell." He gave a slight bow as his scythe appeared in one hand, and then he turned and began walking away.

Alex waved, smiling. "Goodbye, Nathaniel!" She called. "It was a pleasure meeting you!"

He paused and looked back at her, finding to his surprise that it had been nice meeting the strange insomniac girl, as well. It was a refreshing change, at least. He half-raised one hand in farewell before turning away and suddenly leaping high into the air. Alex watched in amazement as he swung his huge scythe in a smooth arc below him, and the air ripped apart, leaving behind a glowing rift. The God of Death fell through the rift and was gone, and the fissure closed behind him.

Alex stood on the quiet country road, alone with the distant stars and night wind, reflecting that the only evidence that the shinigami had ever even existed were the footprints in the dirt that were being slowly swept clean by the cool, whispering breeze.


	2. Chapter 2: A Lost Reaper

_The Reason Why_

Okay, here it is: Chapter 2. This one isn't very long, and is set 30 years after Chapter 1. The story will do that quite a bit, switching between past and future. It will possibly even switch time periods every other chapter, although I'm not a hundred percent sure yet. This chapter introduces my other OC, who will play a role in both the past and future stories.

Okay, so... I hope you enjoy Chapter 2~ Thank you to the people who took the time to review. As always, I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters.

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><p>Chapter 2: A Lost Reaper<p>

The night air was crisp and cool, and a majestic full moon hung in the dark velvet sky, outlining every building in softly glowing silver.

The city was quiet, its streets deserted. It was rather late, after all, and too chilly to suit most people. Nonetheless, atop a tall roof sat a shadowy figure, gazing up in silence at the ethereal white moon.

The figure, a young lady in a flowing Victorian dress- perhaps twenty years of age- was a peculiar-looking individual. Her violet hair fell just past her shoulders, and her eyes, oddly enough, had double irises; outer irises of yellow and inner irises of deep, forest green. She held in her hands a pair of purple-rimmed glasses, and she fiddled absently with them as she stared quietly at the moon, a distant expression on her face.

She had lost track of how long she'd been wandering aimlessly through this world, but she knew for certain that it had been much too long. Years, now; decades, perhaps. And, in all that time, she had not aged a day from the moment she'd woken up, lost and alone, with no memory of who she was or what had happened to her. She had never fallen ill, was able to survive on much less food and water than was normal, and was universally shunned as though her very presence made people uneasy. Based on this, along with several more oddities, she had come to the unnerving conclusion that she was something other than human. Exactly what manner of creature she was, she did not know, and this made her wary of herself in a way that she was certain would drive her mad sooner or later.

The place where she'd woken up wasn't far from this loud and sprawling city, and although she travelled the continent restlessly, wandering from country to country in search of some clue as to who she was… Her instincts always drew her back here, to this dreary haven of smoke and fog. And, seeing as she had nothing else to go on, she returned to this place time and time again in search of answers. How frustrating it was, she constantly reflected, that she did not even know what she was looking for. Was she looking for a person? A place? A single piece of information that would trigger some long-lost memory buried deep within her mind? She had no idea. She was as blind to the object of her quest as she was without her strange purple glasses. She gazed up at the blurred glow of moonlight, drifting down these worn paths of thought again and again…

Suddenly she blinked, snapping to alertness in an instant. _There it is again._ In her wanderings, she had, very rarely, felt a strange force tugging at her. It was difficult to describe; she felt as though some urgent sense of duty was calling to her from the back of her mind. She had only felt it three times before, and had hesitated a bit too long in following it; the feeling always vanished before she could reach its source.

But this time it was stronger than before; perhaps its source was near. She leapt to her feet, swiftly setting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, and took off in grim pursuit. She did not bother to pick her way down to the ground; she simply leapt from rooftop to rooftop, paying little attention to her height above the cobblestone streets. She had discovered a long while ago that she possessed unusual abilities- strength, balance, and dagger-sharp reflexes, to name a few- and, once she had accepted these inhuman powers, she put them to use without hesitation.

Now she hurtled through the chill November night, yellow-green eyes narrowed with resolve. _This could be it. It's been years since I last felt this pull; I will __**not**__ allow this chance to slip away again. _As she ran on, the strange pull grew stronger and stronger… And then, as she leapt across a gap between two buildings, it lessened slightly. She stopped dead, turning her head to look down at the street behind her. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary…

And then, very suddenly, a loud and jarring sound shattered the cool silence of the still night air. The wanderer jumped, startled, for she had never heard anything quite like this before. It was a sharp, deep thrumming sound; it crossed her mind that, if blades had a battle cry, this whirring, metallic roar would be it. It sounded dangerous. And, whatever it was, it was very close.

She paused for just a moment, weighing the possible danger against whatever chance she had at discovering something important. It took her less than three seconds to decide that she wouldn't allow anything to keep her from reaching her goal; nothing short of death itself. And so, she leapt off the roof and landed lightly on the cobbles below, taking off at a dead sprint in the direction of the frightening noise.

As she ran, she heard the thrumming die down a bit, and she pushed herself to move faster._ No! I can't be too late! _But although the roar quieted down, it did not disappear, and she heard the sound of laughter. "Come here, old man, and let me paint you red~!" a voice cried with relish. She skidded around a corner and came to a stop just as a splash of crimson arced into the air.

Before her, an old man was sprawled on the wide cobblestone street, eyes wide and alarmed, mouth open in a silent scream. The splash of red had come from his chest, where a strange weapon was currently buried, thrumming angrily. It looked almost like a blunt sword with a strange red boxlike hilt, with serrated edges whirring along its length fast enough to blur, kicking up a spray of blood.

Holding onto the handle with black-gloved hands was a figure with long, blood-red hair, wearing a red coat that seemed to have slipped halfway down the arms of a white dress shirt and brown vest. The wandering girl was behind the red-haired figure, so she couldn't see its face, and whoever it was didn't seem to have heard her approach. As she watched, the person's shoulders shook slightly as another mischievous laugh drifted over the noise of the weapon. "There, now you're not so ugly with that wrinkled face of yours; isn't it amazing what a little red can do? Now, then, let's see your cinematic records. If I take much longer, William will get annoyed with me." She could just hear the pout in his voice- the voice was unmistakably male, in spite of the feminine coat and high heeled shoes- as he ripped the weapon out of the man's chest.

Suddenly, a blue light flooded the area, and something that looked like reels of film shot out of the man's chest, curling and writhing in the air. The girl's eyes widened in astonishment as she looked on, and the red-haired man strolled closer to the film to get a better view. She watched as the man's life story played out before her eyes, narrated by his own voice, seen through his eyes and his mind. She didn't know how long it lasted, but when the film finally drew to a close, the man with the thrumming blade snorted. "That was so _bor~ing~!" _He declared plaintively, pulling a cord on his weapon so that its metallic roar increased tenfold. He slashed through the film reels, and they began to dissolve as the blue glow faded. As the glow of the film reels faded, so did the sense of urgency and duty that had drawn the girl to this place. She watched in fascination as a book materialized in the air where the film had been, falling to the ground with a dull THUD. The strange man walked over and picked up the book, wiping a speck of blood off its cover with his jacket. The old man's eyes had glazed over; he was clearly gone from this world.

After a moment, the violet-haired girl came out of her trance. _What… was that? It must have been what drew me here, but... why? What just happened? And who is that man with the roaring blade? _As the man wiped off his weapon, grumbling something about the dullness of his job, she took a step forward and spoke. "Who are you?" she demanded in a calm, steady voice.

The man whirled around, clearly caught off guard by her presence. He wore a pair of red-rimmed glasses, and his heavy-lashed eyes, the girl noticed with amazement, had double irises of green and yellow, identical to her own. As he turned and looked at her, his eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly in shock. He had very sharp teeth, the girl noted uneasily- they wouldn't have looked out of place in a shark's mouth. She stood her ground, watching him as he stared at her in baffled astonishment. After a long pause, he blinked twice. "Iris-chan…?" he said slowly, in a disbelieving tone.

The girl blinked right back. "Excuse me?" she said doubtfully. Iris? Was that her name? Did this man know her? He must, to use such a familiar term to address her… Did he have the answers she sought? She felt her heart pound a bit faster in her chest in anticipation at this, but made a fierce effort to suppress her curious hope. Whether he knew her or not, he didn't appear trustworthy to her at all. She would have to be very careful about-

"_IRIS-CHAAAAN~!" _the man cried out in gleeful surprise after his dumbfounded silence, and immediately dropped his weapon to leap at her, arms outstretched, sharp teeth gleaming in a huge open-mouthed smile.

Her eyes snapped wide in alarm, and she was in motion instantly. She skipped deftly to one side as the red-haired figure hurtled towards her, whipping a sharp roundhouse kick straight into the center of his back as he passed to make certain that he overshot her. And indeed he did, crying out in surprise and flying onward to land face-first on the rough cobblestone street. He skidded to a stop and just lay there for a second, twitching, as the girl straightened and backed up a few steps to keep some distance between them, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who the hell are you?" She demanded flatly, "and how do you know my name?"

"Owww… My poor face…!" whimpered a muffled voice from the cobbles. The man pushed himself up from the ground, his face scraped, pink and puffy, and turned his head to look at her, his yellow-green eyes wide and bewildered and more than a little hurt. "What do you _mean_, who am I? Don't you _remember_ me, Iris-chan? It's me, Grell!" he whined.

She looked down at him, frowning. "… Grell?" He certainly _acted_ like he knew her, but neither his name nor his appearance were triggering any long-lost memories. He didn't seem the slightest bit familiar to her. "No, I certainly do not remember you." She eyed him dubiously as he got to his feet.

"_What?"_ Grell cried in dismay, clutching his heart with both hands. "How- How could you not remember me? _Me? _And where have you _been_ all this time, anyway? We all thought you were dead, you know!"

Now she was lost. She blinked at him, her brow creased in confusion. "What? What on Earth are you talking about?" she inquired, perplexed.

He stared at her as though she was clinically insane, and a frown appeared on his face. "You were _missing,"_ he informed her slowly, in a slightly more serious tone, "for _thirty years. _What happened to you, Iris-chan? Do you remember _anything?"_

She eyed him warily. "… No. No, I don't," she said after a moment. "What exactly are you, anyway?"

His sharp-toothed mouth dropped open. "What am-? You don't even remember what _shinigami_ _are?"_

She was beginning to get frustrated with this situation. "No," she snapped, losing her patience, "I _don't_. I don't remember _who_ you are, I don't remember _what_ you are, I don't even remember my own bloody _name._ Why don't we just speed things up a bit and assume that I don't remember _anything_ about _anything, all right?"_

Grell blinked. His mouth snapped shut and he stared at her in unsettled silence, clearly taken aback. She felt a slight twinge of guilt for her outburst, but she did not apologize, simply gazing back at him with a level yellow-green stare. After a long silence, he sighed theatrically and walked over to retrieve his weapon. Her eyes followed him every step of the way. At length he turned around and set the tip of his blade on the ground, resting his forearm on its handle and planting his other hand on his hip as he looked at her in mild disappointment. "Well. That's a shame," he remarked dryly, abruptly losing most of his light and whimsical attitude. "I wonder what happened to your memory. Anyway, you should come back to the shinigami realm with me. I'm sure William will want to know about this. He'll probably explain things, too."

The girl- Iris?- looked at him doubtfully. "Why should I trust you?" she asked the strange red-haired man.

He met her gaze and his face suddenly contorted in an unsettling sharp-toothed grin. "Well, of _course_ you should trust me, Iris-chan," he told her brightly, wagging a finger at her. "After all…

"… I _am_ your best friend!"


	3. Chapter 3: An Obscure Past

_The Reason Why_

Sorry for the wait. You have no idea how busy I am... So much to do, so little time! But anyway, Chapter 3 once again focuses on Iris... Just because I didn't like to stop in the middle of her encounter with everyone's favorite shinigami. The next chapter will return to the past storyline, I promise! (Which, by the way, is set 30 years in the past, not 31. Slight miscalculation on my part. It's 30 for a reason; there is a method to my madness, I assure you.) Also, if you follow the second link in my profile, you can check out the pictures I've drawn for this fanfiction, so if you're curious, you can go take a look. ... Oh, and one last thing! You'll~ be seeing~ lots~ of these~ things~ when Grell~ is~ speaking~! If you've seen the anime, you'll know exactly the kind of tone they imply. It's difficult to describe the way Grell talks, but I find that the random squiggles are surprisingly accurate.

All right, I'll stop rambling and let you get on with the story now. Reviews (and especially constructive critisism) are greatly appreciated! *Note: I still don't own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters.*

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><p>Chapter 3: An Obscure Past<p>

Grell Sutcliff had to chase the female shinigami down after he'd delivered his last line.

Upon hearing the words "best friend" cross his lips, Iris had paused, crossed her arms, looked at him flatly, and turned to walk away. She had actually walked a good distance as the red-haired reaper stared after her, blinking in confusion, but he soon shook himself and took off in pursuit, shouting indignantly at her retreating back.

"Wait, _wait! _Where do you think you're _going?"_

Iris stopped mid-step and spun smartly on her heel, raising her arm to point at him. Her halt was so abrupt that he barely had time to skid to a stop, her accusing finger an inch from his nose. Her yellow-green eyes were acidic and skeptical, contrasting sharply with the soft, silvery glow of moonlight that hung sweetly over the dark city. "I don't know how you know me, _Grell_," she said slowly, emphasizing each word. "But I do know that you are strange, sinister, and seem to enjoy killing things. I can't possibly imagine being 'best friends' with someone as bloodthirsty as yourself. Therefore, you must be lying, and I'm not going to waste my time going along with the sketchy whims of someone who can't be trusted."

He gasped dramatically, placing his free hand on his chest and feigning a wounded expression. _"Can't be trusted?"_ He echoed in disbelief, slipping back into his whiny tone. "_Me?_ Don't be so cruel, Iris-chan! It's _true;_ I _was_ your best friend, before you disappeared! You're a shinigami, just like me! We worked in the same sector! Went on the same _missions_ sometimes! Isn't _any_ of this ringing a bell?" Upon seeing her bluntly disbelieving expression, he grimaced, a rather frightening expression, considering his sharp teeth. "Tch. How bothersome- Oh!" His eyes suddenly widened in realization, and he smacked his forehead with the palm of his black-gloved hand, a wide grin quickly growing on his face. "Silly me! I'd forgotten- I have _proof!"_ He promptly began digging around in his pockets, his tongue protruding from between his sharp teeth in concentration.

Iris looked on doubtfully, keeping a wary eye on the hand that still clutched the handle of his strange blade. "Proof of…?"

He dug for a moment more before a smile again surfaced on his face. "Proof that you're a shinigami, and that we worked in the same sector, of course~!" He brought out his hand and held out what looked like two ID cards. When she looked down at them curiously, he waved the cards around. "Go on, take them! Read them, _then_ you'll know I'm not _untrustworthy." _His lower lip protruded in a pout at the last word.

Iris paused for a moment before cautiously taking the cards. The topmost card was Grell's; it displayed a small photo of him, with a shark-toothed grin and a flirtatious wink, in the top left corner. The card was covered with information in neat black type, much of which made no sense to her whatsoever. A circular seal with the letters "H.R." was stamped on it in black ink. She read over his information with a slight crease between her eyebrows. _**Name: Grell Sutcliff. Sector: London. Department: Dispatch (Field Work).**_ _**Sector Administrator: William T. Spears.**_ She skimmed through the rest of the card until she came to a small section on the bottom that read "Administrator Notes." _**Unruly, unprofessional, and possibly the most powerful shinigami in the sector. Adept at mass-reaping missions.**_

She glanced at the red-haired reaper standing before her; he was currently watching her with an expectant smile, leaning on his blade like a cane with his fist planted on his hip. _The most powerful reaper in the sector, huh…? _She reflected gravely. _How strange… And how unfortunate. He could __**force**__ me to come with him if he wanted to, couldn't he? My, what a situation I've gotten myself into._

After a moment, the smile faded from his face and he looked at her in exasperation. "Well, _go on_, already," he grumbled impatiently, drumming his fingers on the handle of his weapon. "Look at the other one! I don't have all _night,_ you know!"

She frowned and looked back down at the cards, sliding the other one to the top of the stack. As soon as she caught a glimpse of the picture, she stopped, her eyes widening slightly. It was unmistakably her; deep violet hair that fell just past her shoulders, double irises of yellow and green, a pair of dark purple glasses. She had a calm smile on her face. To her astonishment, she appeared to be wearing the very same outfit that she had woken up in so long ago, when she first lost her memory; her clothes looked clean in the picture, however, a sharp contrast with the blood-crusted, torn up rags that she had been wearing when she first woke. After the initial shock, she carefully read through the more coherent bits of information. _**Name: Iris Thornfield. Sector: London. Department: Dispatch (Field Work). Sector Administrator: William T. Spears.**_ And, down at the bottom, _**Administrator Notes:**_ _**Works diligently. One discipline referral for refusing a position as a secretary in the General Affairs Department.**_

Iris stood there looking down at herself for a long moment as Grell grinned widely. "You _see~?"_ he said cheerily. "I _told_ you so~!"

Iris hesitated a moment before looking back at him solemnly. "Why do you have this?" She asked quietly.

He chuckled, the sound oddly feminine. "Well, they found it somewhere in London after you disappeared, and since they figured you were dead, they let me have it. Because, you know, I'm your best friend and all," he added triumphantly. She didn't have time to respond to this, because he abruptly squealed like a little girl and dropped his weapon so he could clasp his hands together in front of his chest, spinning around in excited circles. "But you're _not_ dead, you're alive and well~! Oh, isn't it just _won~der~ful~? _Just wait 'till Ronald sees you, it'll just make his day~! Now you can come back and start doing missions again and we'll all be a team again and it will be just like old times and I'll finally have a fellow _girl_ to talk to again and-"

Iris reached out and grabbed the death god's shoulders to stop his tornado-style spinning and high-speed babble. "Okay," she said firmly, exasperated. "Okay. I believe you."

"Really? You really believe me now? Well, _good,_ it's about _time!"_ He exclaimed. "Now come on, let's go! We have to take you to see _Will~iam~!" _He blushed at the thought and quickly bent down to scoop up his weapon.

Iris watched in silence, the fingers of one hand pressed to her forehead to ward off an impending headache. _Well… It looks like this is it. I've found a link to my past, after all this time. I just hope it leads me in the right direction…_

_(~*~*-*~*~)_

The shinigami realm was not what Iris had expected at all.

She had expected the home of the grim reapers to be dark and foreboding, perhaps littered with human bones and grinning skulls. What she got instead was a forest of tall white and gray office buildings and skyscrapers, none of which she had ever encountered before, all clustered together beneath overcast white skies. She slowed to a stop on the concrete sidewalk and just stared at the soaring buildings of pale steel and glass, speechless. Grell paused and looked over his shoulder, frowning back at her. "Ne! Iris-chan!" He said loudly, snapping his fingers in front of her face. "What are you stopping for?"

She blinked, glancing at him absently before returning her gaze to the shinigami office complex. "Sorry," she muttered, transfixed. "I just-"

"Oh!" Grell interrupted, looking at her hopefully. "Are you remembering something?"

She looked away from the buildings again to frown at him. "- I just haven't seen anything like this before," she finished dryly.

The reaper huffed, eyeing her with disappointment. "Huh. Still nothing, then." He faced forward and shrugged his shoulders before continuing on down the sidewalk towards the office buildings. "Well, hurry up, then. I'm already late."

Iris reluctantly tore her eyes away from the strange buildings and went after him. Behind her awe, she was troubled. Why _didn't_ she remember any of this? When she'd been searching for her memory before, she had expected that a familiar person, a familiar sight, would trigger the return of her lost memories… But she still remembered nothing. It was as though every memory had been cleanly erased from her mind, leaving nothing behind but uncertainty.

Soon they came to the main entrance of one of the huge buildings, and Grell entered without hesitation. Iris paused a moment before following him in, suddenly tense. The main foyer was a hive of activity; men in black suits and glasses hurried across the white tiled floor, some carrying strange weapons, some unarmed, all looking purposeful and professional. Every single one of them had yellow-green eyes identical to her own, and to Grell's. She felt completely out of place in her elaborate Victorian Era garb; her flowing blue dress and Grell's long crimson coat seemed to be the only spots of color in this pristine black and white setting.

Grell seemed completely unfazed by this, and strode confidently through the foyer towards one of the many side-hallways. Iris followed, fighting the urge to jog to catch up with the red reaper as several quizzical stares were directed at her. She could feel herself bristling under these strangers' eyes, the uncomfortable sensation quite familiar to her from her many years travelling amongst suspicious humans. _Humans,_ Iris thought in wonder, distracting herself from the situation. _How odd to think that word as though I'm not one myself. I suppose I've always known, but… It's still so strange._

Then they were walking through a pristine white hallway, and the discomforting sensation faded slightly as the crowd thinned. One wall of the long hallway was nothing but windows, and these stretched from floor to ceiling, looking out on the businesslike pale asphalt streets and towering skyscrapers. The other wall, smooth and white, sported many white posters depicting inky black circles with breaks in the lines, along with the occasional door. More shinigami were walking these hallways, but not as many as in the main foyer. Soon Grell stopped in front of a doorway, turned to Iris, and held a finger to his grinning lips. "Stay there and don't make a sound, okay?" He snickered. Then he turned, not waiting for an answer, and barged into the room.

"Oh, _Wiiilliaaaam~!"_ Grell called out cheerily, throwing his arms out to either side like a grandstander as he strolled out of Iris's sight. "I'm _ba-aaack~!"_

Iris heard a cold, flat voice speak from somewhere inside the room. "Yes… And you are an hour and fourteen minutes late. This is the fourth time this week. If you persist in drawing out your missions in this manner, I will have your death scythe confiscated again, Grell Sutcliff."

"_Williammm," _came Grell's whiny response, "you're so _cold!_ You never let me have any fun! And anyway, you let plenty of _other_ reapers take their time in the field-"

" 'Plenty of other reapers' do not spend their free time stalking repulsive demons. It's a disgrace to all shinigami, and I will not condone it."

"Oh, but _Will~_ I wasn't looking for Sebas-chan today! I did find someone else, though."

The other voice was dry. "You don't say. If you have managed to find yet another demon to cling to -"

"No, no, she isn't a _demon, _don't worry~"

There was a brief pause. Now the other voice was even more sardonic than before, and heavy with skepticism. "She?"

Grell chuckled, and his face popped back into Iris's view as he motioned with his hand for her to come in, grinning a frightening Cheshire cat grin. Iris hesitated for just a moment before straightening and striding calmly into the room.

The first thing she noticed was that everything, absolutely _everything_, was pure white. The walls, the bookshelf, the large and orderly desk… every piece of furniture in the room was completely colorless. This effect was present throughout the entire compound, but it was as obvious as a slap in the face in this small office.

The second thing she noticed was the man sitting behind the monochrome desk, pen in hand, staring at her in blank surprise. He wore the standard black suit and tie, and sported a pair of simple, gray, rectangular-framed glasses over his cold two-toned eyes. His hair was short and black, slicked back and gleaming. Grell, standing in front of his desk, proudly waved an arm at her, a self-satisfied smile plastered on his face. "Look what I brought back with me~!" He sang triumphantly.

The shinigami- who Iris assumed was named William- continued to stare at her in silence. After a long pause, he slowly put his pen down, a mildly perplexed look in his eyes. "… Is that you, Iris-san?"

She met his inquisitive stare evenly. "… I suppose so, yes."

"I found her while I was out on my mission~! She's not dead after all! She did lose her memories, though," Grell added, frowning at Iris and folding his arms as though this inconvenience was her fault.

William was silent, simply staring at the newly-discovered shinigami. After a few seconds of this, she began to feel uncomfortable. Pushing back the urge to fidget, she spoke. "I take it from both of your reactions that there was a good amount of evidence that I was dead?" She said presently.

William slowly frowned. "… Yes. As a matter of fact, there was," he said after a moment. Then he let out a slight sigh. "How irksome," he muttered under his breath. "I shall have to send word to the other departments to retrieve your files and equipment, not to mention re-entering you in the grand database and revising your status…" He eyed her broodingly, falling silent. Catching her vaguely uncomfortable look, he sat back in his chair and rested his forearms on the smooth white desk. "Would you like to hear the circumstances of exactly how we arrived at the conclusion of your demise?" He inquired dryly.

Iris looked at him seriously. "Yes," she said calmly. "I certainly would."

"Yes, Will," Grell put in cheerily, walking over and planting his behind firmly on his superior's desk, causing said superior's eyebrow to twitch. "Let's hear it again, _huh~?"_

William, pointedly ignoring the flamboyant reaper sitting on his desk, folded his hands together over the paperwork he'd been working on. "You were sent out on a mission on that day," he began evenly, "and you were gone for far longer than was normal for you. After five and a half hours, I dispatched another shinigami to locate you. It took him quite some time to search the city, but eventually he came upon a deserted mansion. In the foyer he found signs of an enormous struggle; furniture was destroyed, the railings of the grand staircase were splintered to pieces, the tiled floor was deeply gouged, and there were rather large quantities of blood pooled all over the floor. In the midst of all this mess, the shinigami agent discovered your Death Scythes half-submerged in a puddle of blood. You, however, were nowhere to be found."

Iris had stopped breathing, her eyes wide and unsettled. She didn't remember where she'd woken up, but it wasn't like the other memories she'd lost; she still had a vague, blurred impression of a spacious room, a pale orange glow, and a heavy metallic scent. She had a feeling that she hadn't really been fully conscious until she'd come out of her trance some time later, limping down a cobblestone street in the misty dawn, bleeding heavily from several deep, jagged gashes. William's description of pools of blood would certainly explain the metallic scent. But what on Earth had _happened_ there? She must have been fighting something… And, from the sound of it, she must have lost. She was silent for a long time, wide eyes gazing sightlessly at the colorless office floor, a perplexed crease between her eyebrows.

Her reverie was broken by Grell's theatrical sigh. "Ah! If only _I'd_ been the one to discover that place," he cried mournfully, draping himself rather suggestively over William's desk. "It sounds like it would have been _love~ly~!_ I still wonder who drenched those battlegrounds in brilliant red, don't _you_, _Will~iam~?" _He affectionately poked the cold shinigami in the chest, oblivious to the irritated sideways glare he was receiving.

"… Indeed," William said with no inflection, picking up his pen again and returning to his paperwork, most likely for the sole purpose of ignoring the red-haired shinigami more efficiently. "It is quite the mystery… In any case, Miss Thornfield, you _do_ intend to return to your previous duties, correct?"

Iris looked back at William, eyebrows drawn together. "… I don't know," she said warily after a pause. "I don't really know what my previous duties _were._ It would be unwise to agree to take them on again without knowing what I'm getting into, don't you think?"

William frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Grell beat him to it, jumping off the desk and clasping his hands together. "OH! OH! Me! Me! I'll show Iris-chan the ropes again!" He declared immediately, hopping up and down excitedly like a little girl. "Ronald and I have a joint mission tomorrow! Can we take her with us? _Pleeeeeease~?"_ The shark-toothed reaper then proceeded to give William his best puppy-eyed stare, batting his long red eyelashes.

William closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his forehead, eyebrow twitching. "… Fine," he grumbled, earning a happy squeal from Grell. "But do try to keep in mind that Iris-san was a highly diligent worker. If you and Mr. Knox infect her with your laziness and irresponsibility-"

"We won't~" Grell giggled, grabbing Iris by the wrist and promptly running for the door, dragging the unfortunate violet-haired reaper behind him. He paused in the doorway to turn and blow a kiss to his sector administrator. _"Bye-bye, Williammmmm~!"_ He sang cheerily before hauling a disheveled Iris out the door, slamming it behind them.

William T. Spears resisted the powerful urge to roll his eyes as he returned yet again to his paperwork. So the sector's only female field agent was back again, offering no explanation as to how she had disappeared in the first place. _Honestly,_ he thought in mild annoyance, looking out the window at the monochrome sky. _What a nuisance…_

_…But then, perhaps she'll return to her old habit of keeping those two idiots out of trouble. That would be quite beneficial indeed._


	4. Chapter 4: A Routine Procedure

_The Reason Why_

That's right- I'm still alive. Thought I'd abandoned this fanfiction, didn't you? Nope- I was just insanely busy. Sorry about that. But now that it's summer, I've got loads of free time on my hands, so you can expect to see plenty more updates to this soon. Hopefully there will be no more long silences from my end. (Until school starts, anyway.)

As promised, this chapter returns to the past storyline. Most of it is told from Nathaniel's perspective. The rest… Well, you'll see.

Prepare to witness the legendary shinigami in all his bloody glory.

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><p>Chapter 4: A Routine Procedure<p>

It was early morning in the orderly, monochrome shinigami realm. Nathaniel Cross strolled, unhurried, through one of the many hallways of the Dispatch department, gazing absently out the wall-high windows and into the cold light of another pale dawn. The snowy white "sun" was just edging over the horizon, highlighting the businesslike landscape in muted shades of cream and alabaster.

That was one of the many things he loved about the human realm; their mornings were painted in gold and flame, rose and lavender, all of the vivid hues that this dreary world lacked. Earth was an eternally beautiful, ever-changing work of art, and in all his centuries of flitting back and forth between these two worlds, he had never lost his quiet admiration of the mortal realm's effortless splendor.

After a moment, he drew to a halt in front of a plain white door. He raised one black-gloved hand and rapped on the smooth surface with his knuckles. "You may enter," a dry voice called from inside.

Sliding the door open, Nathaniel stepped into a small, colorless little office. As he shut the door behind him, he found himself thinking, for the thousandth time, that his sector administrator seemed to have an affinity for order; there was no neater office in the entire complex than that of William T. Spears. The cold-eyed man looked up as Nathaniel ambled further into the room and stopped in front of the clean white desk. "You sent for me, William?" Nathaniel inquired coolly.

William straightened and adjusted his rectangular glasses, eyeing Nathaniel with a slight glimmer of respect in his normally-emotionless eyes. "That is correct, Mr. Cross," he replied calmly. "A situation has come up that requires your expertise. A skilled shinigami is needed in order to perform a mass-reaping in the British countryside. It seems that the hostilities between two rival dukedoms have risen to a fever pitch over some issue or other, and both have mustered small armies that intend to do battle at nine o'clock this morning."

Nathaniel raised one slim eyebrow slightly, eyes hidden behind shining glasses. "Oh? Is that so?" he murmured reflectively. "Forgive me for saying so, Mr. Spears, but that hardly seems like a task you would need to go out of your way to request me for. A handful of novice shinigami would be perfectly capable of handling that, I believe…"

William folded his hands loosely on his desk, giving the legendary shinigami a dry look. "Quite so, Mr. Cross," he agreed wryly. "If that was all there was to this assignment, I would have considered sending a team of lesser reapers. However, matters are not quite that simple." He closed his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose; the gesture seemed calm enough, but Nathaniel had known William for some time- indeed, he recalled that not too long ago, the businesslike shinigami had been a reaper in training- and he took this action as a sign of agitation. The cause of his annoyance was made clear with his next statement. "According to one of our scouts, a pack of scavenger demons is likely to attend the battle to prey on the souls of the victims. The majority of these are lesser demons, but our agent reports that the foul brutes have a leader that appears to be somewhat more powerful." He folded his arms, a hint of disgust etched into his clean features.

A faint smirk hovered on the silver-haired Death God's lips. "Oh… I see," he said smoothly. "Well, that certainly explains your decision. I accept this mission. What are your orders, Mr. Spears?"

William looked at him impassively. "Collect the soul of every fallen warrior," he instructed coolly. "As with all mass-reapings, there are far too many for you to judge on site, so you will need to take your Death Scythe to the General Affairs department to have it modified with the power of Streaming Records. As always, once your scythe receives this modification, the cinematic records of any being you cut will be simultaneously replicated here in the shinigami realm. I will assemble a team of shinigami to review them while you work. I shall also assign the rest of the work you had scheduled for today to other reapers, so as not to over-encumber you." He paused, and his next words were flat and icy, with distaste seething quietly just beneath the surface. "And if these… _demons_… attempt to interfere with your task, you are to dispose of them immediately and without hesitation."

Nathaniel allowed his vague smirk to grow into a knowing smile. "Only if they interfere, William?" He questioned dryly.

William gave him an annoyed look and returned to his paperwork without answering. Nathaniel turned to leave, but his administrator spoke once more, halting him. "One more thing, Mr. Cross," William said calmly, not bothering to look up. "You may choose one additional shinigami to accompany you on this mission. I do not doubt your abilities, but if and when those vile beasts decide to meddle in shinigami affairs, you may require an extra agent to attend to the souls of the dying whilst you deal with the fiends. I would like you to give them your full attention."

Nathaniel, looking back over his shoulder, smiled. "Understood," he chuckled, and proceeded to exit the room. _My, it seems that Mr. Spears' grudge is as bitter as ever,_ he reflected as he set off at a leisurely stroll down the hallway.

_Well… I suppose that just makes things more interesting, doesn't it…?_

_(~*~*-*~*~)_

Nathaniel exited the Dispatch office and made his way across the complex towards the General Affairs building, a towering skyscraper of concrete and glass. His black dress shoes tapped quietly on the white concrete that covered the ground. As he walked, a calm and respectful voice spoke from behind him. "Hello, Mr. Cross. It's been awhile."

He turned his head to see a familiar shinigami walking a few feet back. It was the reaper he'd met a few months ago while wandering around the complex at night. They'd struck up a conversation about the pros and cons of working in the Dispatch department versus the General Affairs department, and all the while she had been completely unaware of who he was and what his reputation was like. When he'd commented that it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't intimidated by his status, she had looked at him strangely and seemed to realize why he looked so familiar. After the initial surprise, however, her only reaction was to smile slightly and say that she could see how the intimidation factor could get irritating after a while. Their conversation had continued unhindered, and he had noted approvingly that her behavior did not change at all, even when she was aware that she was speaking to a legend.

He tilted his head slightly with a small smile. "It has, hasn't it? It's nice to see you again, Ms. Thornfield. Where are you headed this early in the morning?"

Iris smiled wryly, adjusting her purple-rimmed glasses as she walked. "I don't have anything to do until two o'clock today, but my internal clock woke me up at seven thirty. I decided that I may as well spend some time in the library," the violet-haired shinigami replied. "And how about you?"

"I'm on my way to General Affairs at the moment," he returned. "I've a mass-reaping to do, so I need to have my scythe modified."

Iris raised her eyebrows. "Ah. A mass-reaping," she echoed thoughtfully. "I suppose you must get a lot of those. I performed one myself, once, with two friends of mine. It was certainly… different. It was challenging, but it was nice not to have to go through the records on site."

Nathaniel glanced back at her. "Well, then, if you enjoyed it so much, would you like to accompany me?" He inquired calmly. "William did tell me to bring another reaper. I planned on searching for a colleague after I finished at General Affairs, but if you're willing to go, that will simplify things a bit."

Iris blinked. "… Is that so?" After a moment, she smiled, the expression of someone accepting a dare. "All right, then," she agreed. "I'll come with you. What time do we leave?"

"We're heading to a battle that begins at nine," he replied, glancing at his watch. "It's eight thirty five right now, so we may as well leave as soon as we've had our scythes modified." He paused. "I should warn you, however; there will be demons at the battle."

Iris's eyebrows ascended, and she stared at him blankly for a moment. "Let me see if I've got this right, then," she said slowly. "A party of _two reapers_ is expected to harvest every soul that dies in battle… _while_ defending them from hungry demons?"

The corner of Nathaniel's mouth pulled up slightly in a smirk as they approached the towering skyscraper. "That's right," he confirmed, yellow-green eyes shining in amusement behind his glasses. "But then, you won't need to worry about that. I'll be the one handling the demons- all you need to deal with is the reaping itself. And I'll help you with that once I've finished with them."

Iris gave him a slightly unsettled look as they entered the building through the revolving doors. Shaking her head, she looked forward again, continuing down another large-windowed hallway. "Huh. I guess I forgot who I'm dealing with," she murmured. "After all, demon slaying _is_ one of the things you're most famous for… Well, this should certainly be an interesting mission, then. Do you know how many demons will be there?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "No. However, William told me to expect a pack, so there should be at least three."

Iris frowned at him. "Demon packs can range from three to _thirty_, Mr. Cross," she said slowly and deliberately. "Are you certain that you can handle those odds on your own? If need be, I know of a reaper who could provide very reliable backup-"

"I appreciate your concern, Ms. Thornfield," Nathaniel cut her off smoothly, smiling over his shoulder at her as he walked. "But there's no need to worry. This is all just a routine procedure for me." A wicked gleam came to his two-toned eyes, and the silver-fringed lids lowered halfway when he spoke next. "Unless, of course, you're worried for yourself. I suppose you could bring someone with you if you don't think that you'll be able to handle-"

Iris's eyes had narrowed as he spoke, one eyebrow twitching. "No chance," she interrupted in an icy tone. Upon seeing his amused smirk, she snorted derisively and looked out the window as she walked, folding her arms over her chest. "I can handle myself just fine, thank you," she went on flatly. "Practice your chivalry elsewhere, please."

Nathaniel took note that this must be a touchy subject, and briefly debated poking at it a little more. He dismissed the notion a moment later, though, for they had reached the counters. He rested his hands on the shiny white countertop, peering into the window from behind his gleaming glasses. A female secretary was just finishing scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "Hello, sir," she greeted mildly, not looking up yet. "How may I be of service?" She finished her note and looked up, and her yellow-green eyes immediately widened in surprise. "Oh-! M-Mr. Cross? I- I'm terribly sorry," she stammered, flustered. "I didn't realize- it was rude of me to not-"

"It's quite all right, miss," Nathaniel interrupted calmly. "In any case, my coworker and I require the Streaming Records modification for a mass-reaping mission. If you check the database, the sector administrator should have authorized the modification on my Death Scythe, and should have another blank authorization pending for my associate."

"O-of course, I'll get right on that," the secretary agreed quickly, turning to a computer sitting beside her and hastily tapping away at the keys. "And who am I granting the blank authorization to, sir?"

Iris, who had been watching in incredulous silence, answered for him. "To Iris Thornfield, Mira," she said dryly, a hint of disapproval in her voice. "And if you stutter at me, I'll be very annoyed."

The secretary paused in her tapping and looked at the figure standing behind Nathaniel for the first time. She blinked in astonishment. _"Iris?"_ She inquired, dumbfounded. Then she grinned widely and went back to typing. "Right, then. I hope working in the Dispatch department is going well for you?"

Iris smiled as Mira printed two forms out. "Things are going fine, Mira," she replied warmly. "Thanks for asking. And how are your secretarial duties going? Are you thinking about following my example and asking for an _interesting_ job?"

Mira made a face and slid the two sheets of paper over the counter to them. "Not on your life," she giggled. "I'm just fine here. You have fun with your _man's_ job; I'll keep the job I'm _supposed_ to have." This earned her an annoyed scowl from the purple-haired reaper, but Mira quickly went on before she could protest. "Now, then, please hand me your Death Scythes and fill out those forms for me, all right?"

Nathaniel took his form and held his hand out to one side, arm fully extended. As Iris and Mira looked on, his enormous silver scythe slowly materialized in his outstretched hand. Its blade was wickedly curved and gleaming in the cold office light, the life-sized silver skull with its crown of thorns grinning hollowly above its metallic ribcage. In spite of herself, Iris felt her mouth drop open. _That… That's not a Death Scythe. That's a monstrosity. Dear God, it's taller than he is! The blade itself is almost as tall as me! How does he fight with that thing? Even with shinigami strength, a swing from that scythe must be awfully slow…_

It soothed Iris's dignity slightly that Mira had reacted in exactly the same way as she had. The secretary's mouth snapped shut, and she eyed the huge scythe doubtfully, pale-faced. "Um-… I-I'll just come around through the door to get that-"

"No need. Could you stand a little farther back, please?" Nathaniel inquired in a pleasant tone, smiling patiently. Mira immediately backed up a few steps, looking rather nervous. Once there was room, Nathaniel brought his scythe around and delicately hooked the dagger-sharp tip through the small window. He then slid the blade to the side until the grinning skull had cleared the edge of the glass. Once that was accomplished, he slid the handle into the small office and leaned the enormous scythe against the secretary's desk. With a final smile, he turned and casually walked to one of the small white tables in the middle of the lobby and proceeded to fill out his paperwork.

Iris and Mira just looked at his black-clothed back for a moment. Then they looked at each other. Iris shrugged and held her palms out in front of her, face-up. In a moment, two Death Scythes in the shape of bow saws appeared in her black-gloved hands. Each straight, serrated blade was about as long as her arm, the bows themselves deep cobalt with pointed silver handles. Iris passed them to Mira in silence before picking up her form and following Nathaniel to the table to fill it out. When she got there, she noted that there was a smirk on his face. "Oh, come off it," she sighed, grabbing a pen and beginning to write. "We can't all have eight-foot-tall Death Scythes, now can we?"

"Well," he chuckled dryly, "at least you have two of them. Is that a good-luck present from your secretary friends, perhaps?"

Iris snorted, and there was a trace of contempt in her voice when she spoke. "No. One of the administrators told them to give me two. He said I would need them to keep up, since I was 'at a disadvantage due to my physical status.'"

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows as he wrote. It was common knowledge that shinigami field work was a male-dominated job, but he hadn't expected the administrators to openly discriminate. Interesting. _Well,_ he reflected broodingly, _Now I have some leverage if I wish to toy with her a bit later._ He stored this information away for future reference and finished by signing his form with a flourish, picking it up and heading back towards the counter. "What, done already?" Iris said with surprise, writing faster.

"After filling out a few thousand of these, you'll find that it won't take so long anymore," he said absently, placing the paper on the desk. Mira approached the window, holding Nathaniel's giant scythe with both hands. She carefully slid the handle out the window, taking the paper as he drew the scythe back out into the open, drawing stares from the few reapers milling about the counters.

Once Iris had finished, she exchanged the paperwork for her newly-modified Death Scythes. Nathaniel was already walking away. She turned back to the secretary. "Thanks, Mira. I'll see you around-"

"What are you doing going on a mission with such a powerful shinigami, Iris?" Mira interrupted in a hasty whisper, glancing at Nathaniel's retreating back. "And a mass-reaping, at that! However did you get this assignment? I thought the administrators didn't like you!"

Iris cracked a smile. "They didn't assign me anything," she said wryly. "He was told to pick a partner for this mission, and I happened to be passing by. I'm sure the administrators will be surprised when I make it back alive. It's a great opportunity to prove myself, don't you think?"

Mira puffed her cheeks out in exasperation. "_Really_, Iris? That explains the blank authorization, but that makes it even _more_ surprising! _Nathaniel Cross? The Silver Shadow?_ Why did he pick _you_ to go on a mission with? According to the legends, that reaper is like a one-man army; he shouldn't even _need_ backup, let alone from the sector's only female Dispatch worker!"

Iris rolled her eyes. "I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Mira," she said with pointed sarcasm. "You're starting to sound like Mr. Steele, with all his females-are-inferior nonsense. And I don't put much stock in legends; they exaggerate everything. But, anyway, it's a long story, and I'm apparently about to be left behind. I'll talk to you later, all right?" And with that, she trotted after the silver-haired reaper, who was by now far off down the hallway.

Mira looked after her incredulously and sighed, returning to her duties. _That Iris is going to get herself in some serious trouble someday,_ she thought to herself. _She'll do anything if someone tells her she can't, whether it gets her killed or not._

_(~*~*-*~*~)_

It was five minutes to nine, and the skies were dark as pitch, hurling sheets of water from their roiling depths onto the small, miserable army far below. Thunder rumbled ominously every now and then, breaking the grim silence that hung over the troops like fog. The rain had dampened their anger somewhat, but most of them sulkily clung to their resolve. The Shillingworths had crossed the line with this last grievous insult, and the Leightons would not stand idly by as their dukedom's name was dragged in the mud. Duke Leighton had demanded an army, and they would not- _could_ not- ignore the call to arms. So they milled around restlessly, shoulders hunched against the downpour, clutching their guns and swords with grim tenacity as they waited for the enemies they knew would come.

Off to one side of the crowd stood two figures. They had made themselves invisible to human eyes, for convenience's sake, and looked on in silence as the army waited. Iris glanced up at the dark, churning skies, expression grave. "What lovely weather for a battle," she murmured to herself, wiping strands of soaked violet hair out of her face. They had been standing here for a total of five minutes and they were completely drenched.

Nathaniel was calmly running his black-gloved fingers along the edge of his blade, a good foot or so above his head. His clothes clung to his skin and his long silver hair hung dripping down his back, but the rain didn't seem to bother him. "I think it's quite fitting," he commented coolly, gazing out across the rolling, storm-lashed fields and their unhappy crowd.

Iris looked back at the troops and took off her rain-spattered glasses, wiping them with her equally-damp sleeve. "I suppose it is," she agreed in a subdued voice. "But while it may be fitting, it's not at all convenient."

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders and returned his hand to his side, a vague smile on his face. "In this line of work, it doesn't pay to worry about convenience," he said dryly, looking through the water dribbling down his glasses to scan the ranks of soldiers nearby. "You simply do your job, whether convenience is on your side or not." He paused for a moment and gazed into the distance. "Here they come."

Iris glanced in the direction he was looking, and saw a blurred line of black creeping over the hazy horizon. She returned her glasses to their place and the picture ratcheted into focus, becoming an ominous scene of a distant army marching over the windswept hillside. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she gripped her Death Scythes firmly in anticipation. She glanced at her watch. "The first one is due to die in three minutes," she observed softly.

The opposing army drew closer, and the troops closest to the reapers stiffened and held their weapons at the ready, an indistinct muttering rising from their number. Soon the two groups faced each other from a hundred feet apart, each staring the other down in silence. The general of each army stepped forward, glaring at each other across the strip of no-man's-land. The Leighton general shouted something across the field, but Iris couldn't make out the words over the ever-present roar of rainfall and the bone-shaking boom of far-off thunder. She saw the Shillington general smile and call something back in response.

Two shouts later, the armies began to move, and all hell broke loose.

The patter of rain was immediately drowned out by gunfire and shouting and the clash of metal on metal, and Iris's eyes narrowed as she scanned the crowd for the first one to fall. She saw Nathaniel move out of the corner of her eye, taking off at a sprint and hurtling right into the heart of the battle. She shook her head and tore after him into the fray.

The first man fell, a bullet hole through his heart. A pale orange glow materialized around him; another power of the Streaming Records modification, indicating that he was ready for reaping. Iris turned her running steps in that direction, but Nathaniel was already there. As she watched, the tall reaper leapt over the head of another soldier, his huge scythe swinging like a pendulum in time with his flight, and came down crouched beside the fallen man, the blade burying itself in his chest. A half second later he was standing again, ripping the scythe free and flitting off like a ghost towards another victim. A cloud of glowing blue film reels exploded from the man's chest as Nathaniel left. Iris slowed to a stop and just watched for a moment as her senior whipped his scythe into a soldier's side, spun and buried it in another's back, wreathed sideways to avoid a bullet as he scored a deep gash in a warrior's stomach. He moved with effortless grace and swiftness, and his enormous silver blade flashed out again and again, scattering sprays of blood and rainwater in its wake. All the while, his face was a calm and impassive mask, heedless of the bloodshed he was inflicting. Iris realized for the first time, as she stood there in the downpour with wide eyes and limp arms, that perhaps not all legends were exaggerated. By now the dark field was awash in blue light from the records. Iris shook herself and hurried into the battle to reap the men that Nathaniel hadn't gotten to yet.

A warrior fell to the ground with a sword through his ribcage, eyes wide in panic. Iris reached him just as he began to glow. She gripped her scythes, one forearm resting atop the other, and slashed with them in a scissor-like motion, staining the grass with blood. The reels of film snaked from the wound, and she moved on, hurtling from one human to the next, never pausing. There weren't many for her to reap, however; she found to her amazement that, with the speed and proficiency of Nathaniel's work, there weren't many victims left for her. In a moment the blue glow of some of the records had faded to a deep red, signifying that the team of reapers back in the shinigami realm had finished reviewing the soul. Iris ran to one such cloud of records and quickly slashed through them with her scythe, dissolving them. No book fell to the ground now; that would appear back in the shinigami realm.

She was unsure how long this went on, but after a time she was aware of Nathaniel's presence beside her. She glanced in that direction and saw him standing there, his long black trench-coat speckled with blood, smiling darkly as he gazed off to the side. "They're here," he said simply. Iris quickly followed his gaze, and immediately felt the color drain from her face.

Creeping towards them beneath the weeping skies was the demon pack that the scout had warned of. It seemed to be composed of not one, but many different types of demon. Some were scaly black gargoyle-like beasts that crawled over the ground with the awkward, dangerous gait of creatures meant for flight. Some took on the semblance of half-wolf monsters, loping forward on their razor-clawed feet as clouds of white vapor snorted from their dribbling muzzles. A few looked serpentine in nature, with long, writhing tails and needle-sharp fangs protruding from their nightmarish, deformed jaws.

Striding at the head of the pack was a tall, humanoid figure. He wore only a pair of shiny leather pants, and his inky black hair was an unruly mane of spikes and snarls. His ears were sharply pointed, and his face was grotesquely deformed, the nose and mouth squashed back into his face, the luminous black-and-yellow eyes abnormally large. An enormous pair of bony, translucent bat wings jutted from his shoulder blades, and his knees were reverse-jointed like an animal's hind legs.

Iris remembered telling Nathaniel that demon packs could range from three to thirty.

This one looked more like forty-five or fifty.

As the nightmarish horde drew closer in the pouring rain, the moving black shadows silhouetted in the flashes of lightning, Iris found that she was genuinely afraid for the first time in ages. "Nathaniel," she said in a tense tone, unable to tear her eyes off the creatures, "this is bad. These odds are very, very bad." She shook her head and clenched her teeth grimly, holding her scythes at the ready. "I don't think just the two of us can handle this. There are far too many. If you can hold them off long enough for me to open a gate, we-"

She was cut off by laughter. She ripped her gaze away from the advancing shadows and tossed an incredulous look at the silver-haired reaper, who was still laughing quietly. "My, aren't you the skittish one," he chuckled, eyeing her with an entertained glimmer in his eyes. "I told you that you were only here for the reaping, didn't I? Don't worry your pretty little head about them." He tapped her lightly on the head with the bloodstained silver skull of his scythe as she stared at him in disbelief. He smiled mockingly and returned his gaze to the incoming monsters. "I'll handle the demons, so don't worry about _breaking a nail_… You stick to your own job. Which, by the way, you're beginning to get backed up on."

Iris's mouth dropped open. "Wh- Are you _insane?"_ She half-shouted at him, her black-gloved hands tightening on the handles of her Death Scythes in frustration. "It would be _suicide_ for a single reaper to go up against a pack that size! I don't care if you _are_ legendary; you're still just one shinigami!"

His yellow-green eyes slid sideways to regard her in unreadable silence for a moment. Then he smiled enigmatically. "I assure you, Ms. Thornfield, that I am perfectly sane. Now please go do your job and leave this situation to me," he replied coolly as he turned and walked forward to meet the demons.

Iris stared after him in barely-suppressed alarm as he strode through the storm towards the large, hellish pack. For a moment she allowed herself to glance behind her, and she noted that Nathaniel was right; they _were_ getting behind on their job. Most of the battlefield now was flooded with deep red, pale orange, and cool blue light from all of the souls frozen in various stages of ascension. The two armies, oblivious to this, fought on amidst the roar of mingled gunfire and thunder.

She looked forward again, a crease between her eyebrows. She didn't know what that arrogant fool was up to, but if need be, she would jump in after him and _drag_ him back to the shinigami realm. Let the demons have their souls; she would much rather live to reap another day. For now, though, she would follow his order and return to her work… And watch his progress from there. Reluctantly, she turned and ran back to the raging battle, casting backward glances over her shoulder every step of the way.

_(~*~*-*~*~)_

Nathaniel strode calmly through the tempest, his scythe swinging loosely at his side as he approached the demon pack. The leader's eyes were now locked onto the shinigami's, and Nathaniel saw the creature slow as it drew nearer. The rest of the horde slowed with it, looking at the reaper who stood in their path with baleful, glowing eyes.

Soon both parties stopped. The lead demon took a few extra steps forward, its lips drawn back over needle-sharp fangs in a frightening attempt at a smile. "Well, what do we have here?" It asked in a soft voice that might have been pleasant had it not contained traces of a growl. "An interloper, perhaps? Come to keep us from our feast, are you, Death God?" The demons behind it snarled and spat at this, glaring at the reaper with unbridled hatred.

Nathaniel allowed a cold smile to spread across his features. "I do believe you're mistaken in one thing," he replied just as softly. "I am here to do my job… _You_ are the interlopers, come to keep me from my work."

The demon laughed, a harsh sound that wracked its deformed body like a coughing fit. "You're too bold, you poor fool," it rasped maliciously. "Look around you. Are you in any position to defy me? My followers and I will tear you apart in seconds. Just who do you think you are, Death God?"

Nathaniel smiled and casually ran his fingers along the blade of his dripping Death Scythe. "I am the Silver Shadow," he said quietly, green eyes gleaming behind his glasses. "And I am taking the time out of my busy schedule to personally slaughter you all like the disgusting vermin you are." His smile ratcheted wider into a dark grin that was more than frightening enough to match the demons' leers. "You should be flattered," he finished with icy pleasure as thunder boomed across the bloodstained field.

At this, the lesser demons stirred and began to make all manner of peculiar sounds, some drawing back slightly in fear of the legend that stood in their path. The almost-smile vanished from the pack leader's face, quickly replaced by a spiteful glare. "Even _better,"_ it spat, lips curled in a snarl. "It will be my _pleasure _to wipe such a bothersome obstacle out of existence!" It turned to its cowering followers. _"Don't just stand there, you sniveling wretches!"_ It bellowed at a volume to match the booming thunder. _**"Kill the Death God!" **_The demons, after a moment of reluctance, hissed and surged forward in a wave towards the single figure standing in their way.

The Death God smiled.

_(~*~*-*~*~)_

Iris was in the middle of slicing through a soldier's records when the clash came. She heard it even above the incessant roar of gunfire and human shouts- a cacophony of snarls and shrieks, howling through the gale like Hell's torments given voice. It would not have failed to alert the warring humans if the demons hadn't also made themselves invisible to mortals. She whirled in alarm and froze at what she saw.

Nathaniel was squarely in the middle of a storm of flashing claws and lashing tails and thrashing wings, at the center of a cloud of writhing fur and scales and skin.

But he was more frightening than all of it.

The legendary reaper took the onslaught in stride, seeming not the slightest bit inconvenienced. As Iris looked on, he began to spin, his enormous scythe outstretched and whirling in a deadly, continuous arc. Many of the attacking demons lost limbs or torsos as they met the whirring silver blade, and they fell screaming to the ground in plumes of crimson blood. In response to this, some demons fell back slightly and resorted to other methods as Nathaniel slowed to a stop. Iris saw one enormous gargoyle spring at the Death God from behind, blade-like claws crashing down towards his skull in a silent death blow. Iris's mouth opened to scream a warning, but half a second before the demon's claws hit home, the Silver Shadow easily whipped the enormous scythe around behind him and impaled the beast from below. He casually lashed out sideways with his scythe, flinging the creature off the blade and bowling over two smaller demons in the process.

He was smiling.

His smile was so wide it took up half his face, but his eyes were cold as ice and nearly blank- emotionless. Like a machine. Iris could think of nothing else to compare it to as she watched her comrade effortlessly slaughtering the huge demon pack, her face pale with something like revulsion. As the demons grew more and more cautious, more and more terrified, she saw him begin to toy with them. He slashed at an approaching gargoyle and neatly sliced off its ear, then thumped it in the chest with the butt of his scythe so it was catapulted back into the swarm, shrieking like a banshee. He swung around to slam a snake demon in the face with the flat of his blade, and Iris could hear the bones crunch even from where she stood.

He leapt lightly into the air and landed on a wolf demon's back.

Before it could react, he cut into its back between the shoulders, slid his blade in horizontally, and flicked out…

Oh God.

Iris's nerves were shaken. She wanted desperately to look away, but her eyes would not obey her, and remained glued to the sight of the massacre before her. It was for this reason that she noticed when the leader of the pack, who had been standing back and watching the slaughter with growing fury, glanced in her direction and did not look away, seeming to see her for the first time. In half a second it had taken flight and was hurtling over the blood-spattered grass towards her.

Iris had very little time to react. She forced herself out of her petrified trance and whipped her twin Death Scythes around into a defensive position just as the demon crashed into her head-on.

The impact knocked her to the ground, the demon's distorted hands locked around her arms like steel vices, long claws digging straight through her flesh to embed themselves in the muscle beneath. She cried out in pain and lashed a hard kick into its stomach, but it was like kicking a brick wall- the only thing she hurt was her foot. She thrashed violently, trying to slash at the demon with her scythes, but was unable to move her arms enough to so much as brush the blade against its skin.

_Damn! How did it pin me so quickly? _The demon laughed a harsh, bitter laugh and leaned its face close to hers, its putrid breath making her eyes water. "For a _legendary shinigami_, the Shadow is awfully careless," it hissed softly, red eyes gleaming in triumph. "Bringing along a _female_ to fight demons? The fool… You're only a vulnerability here, aren't you?"

Iris felt her nose wrinkling in disgust and slow anger. "I am a Reaper," she bit out in cold, precise syllables. "In my line of work, there is no room for 'vulnerable.'" On this last word, she tilted her chin up and spat into the demon's eye.

It reeled back for a moment, snarling in brief pain, and this was all she needed. She ripped her arm free of its loosened grip and slashed the demon's inner elbow with her blade. It howled in agony and leapt back, clutching its injured arm and glaring at her with unspeakable hatred.

She leapt swiftly to her feet and took an offensive stance, staring it down in spite of the cold sweat of fear that had broken out all over her body. "Come at me, then," she commanded in a businesslike tone, "if you're really so sure I'm a walking weak point."

"With _pleasure_," the leader snarled, and pounced again.

She struck at it with a scissor-like move as it approached, but it ducked beneath her blades and slammed a fierce blow into her stomach. She felt the air rush from her lungs as she was launched backwards, and she hit the ground hard on her back. The demon was right behind her, and she rolled backwards into a crouch, slashing at it as it approached.

She was still winded and gasping for air, however, and the strike had so little strength behind it that the razor-edged blades left only shallow nicks in the creature's chest. It cannoned into her again, but she had the sense to keep one arm out of its reach this time. As she was bowled over, she lunged at the demon's face with her free scythe, and it jerked backwards out of the way just in time, leaping back to avoid her counterattack.

Clearly she would wind up dead very quickly if she let it keep her on the defensive, so she switched tactics and went into full attack mode. She charged at the demon, death scythes poised, leaping to one side as it struck at her again. She weaved sideways and slashed at it with both of her saw-like blades, scoring two deep gashes in its side. _That's more like it,_ Iris thought with grim satisfaction as it howled and turned on her. She attempted to block its incoming punch with her blades, but the power of the blow sent shock waves all the way up her arms, numbing them completely. She skipped backwards in alarm as it lashed out again, temporarily defenseless again due to the loss of arm strength. The demon did not fail to notice this, and pressed the attack harder than ever, hurling itself towards her with a snarl. She barely managed to sidestep it in time, and as she did, it landed in a crouch, swiveled, and leapt at her again much faster than she would have predicted.

She tried to throw herself out of its path, but its claws caught her by the shoulder and brought her down with it. She landed painfully with its claws dug into her shoulder, and the landing was so forceful that she heard the distinct _crack_ of bones. When no answering wave of agony shot through her, she realized that the crack had come from the soldier corpse she had so uncomfortably landed on.

Lovely.

The demon once again resumed its previous position, pinning her to the ground beneath its hulking body and holding her arms down. Its grotesque smile was unpleasantly triumphant. "As I _said_," it snarled smugly, "you're only a vulnerability here, _wench_."

Iris cursed inwardly, once again struggling to free her scythes. It was useless- the demon's grip was unbreakable, even with her superhuman strength. It must have been powerful indeed to so easily overtake a shinigami. Iris's mind raced, but she could see no way out of this situation. She was out of her league.

"Let's see how it affects our dear Shadow's mind when he sees his lovely friend mangled beyond recognition," the demon hissed, and stretched its mouth wide, revealing terrifyingly long, sharp fangs.

And then all that existed in Iris's world was blood.

She closed her eyes tightly and ground her teeth to force back a scream. Oddly enough, there was no pain- only a cascade of hot blood pouring down her body. There was a light thump and she felt a sudden weight on her chest, like someone had dropped a melon there.

After a moment, she carefully opened her eyes.

Oh… That wasn't a melon. It was a head.

The demon's headless corpse slumped down onto her as she watched, gushing crimson blood that poured hotly onto the shinigami pinned beneath. Looming over her was the Silver Shadow, drenched in blood and still smiling that disturbing smile. The blade of his scythe was dyed scarlet, dripping quietly onto the grass below.

"What a shame," he commented in his eerie voice. "If you hadn't tried to block his punch, you might have had him… How disappointing." He casually hooked his scythe between the demon's body and hers, then flicked it off. It landed with a heavy _THUD_ several feet away.

Very slowly, she sat up, still on top of the human corpse. The demon's disembodied head rolled off of her, trailing blood. Nathaniel grinned down at her with his berserker smile, and she saw that, behind his glasses, his eyes were as cool and emotionless as ever. It was a terrifying contrast.

"If you'll excuse me," he said smoothly, "I should really go finish your job now."

Iris glanced back, taking in the scene. While she had been locked in battle with the demon leader, one army had fallen back, fleeing over the hills. The other army was marching more slowly homeward. A field of scattered bodies and blood remained in their wake, many still glowing, many still with streams of cinematic records waving peacefully over them, frozen mid-death.

She turned forward again, but Nathaniel was gone, presumably finishing off the remaining records. She looked down blankly, pale and bleeding from her arm wounds.

She had failed.

_(~*~*-*~*~)_

Later that day, Nathaniel sat cross-legged on his bed after changing into clean clothes. His silver hair hung wet down his back from his shower a moment earlier. He was reading a tome of cinematic records, as he often did in his spare time. It seemed that he'd picked one of the less interesting ones- he could feel his mind beginning to wander.

He recalled the defeated look in Iris Thornfield's eyes as she'd trudged after him to the General Affairs department to remove their scythes' modifications. She hadn't spoken for a full five minutes after their job was complete. When he'd inquired coolly if she'd enjoyed herself, she'd flashed him a wary look.

"No," she'd said flatly, blank-eyed. "Not nearly as much as you did."

So now she knew that the legends had not exaggerated anything about him. Perhaps that would change her casual attitude towards him. He didn't consider it a terribly great loss. It always happened.

He recalled the only other person to speak casually with him recently. The human. Alexandra Burton, wasn't it? Her outlook towards him had been very strange indeed. He doubted he would ever come across her again, and this, too, was no great loss to him. It had been an interesting enough encounter, and had lifted the tedium for a while. Sooner or later there would be some other event to rouse him from his boredom.

That was simply the way things went.


End file.
